Take It All Away
by Larien Luinwe
Summary: Remus deals with the loss of his mate. Post OotP *slash*


Title: Take it All Away  
  
Summary: Remus deals with the loss of his mate.   
  
Note: Wrote this a few weeks after reading OotP. I was really upset by the death of my favorite character (after Draco anyway - used to be the other way around *shrugs*). Personally I'm hoping Luna's vague allusion results in a reappearance but knowing my luck the guy's gone for good. Bleh.  
  
Credits: Puddle of Mud for the title. J.K. Rowling and all her cohorts for the characters, setting and backstory. Was listening to and "Precious Things" and "A Sorta Fairytale" while writing this because for some reason Remus is making me feel like listening to Tori Amos songs. Kindly do NOT ask. So I originally called it "Precious Things" but then when I switched the music to Superchick on my playlist "Take it All Away" snuck on there somehow. And the lyrics just stood out and made think of this fic even more.  
  
Everything's so blurry and everyone's so fake,  
  
Everybody's empty and everything is so messed up,  
  
Preoccupied without you I cannot live at all,  
  
My whole world surrounds you I stumble then I crawl . . .  
  
-"Take it All Away" Puddle of Mud  
  
Harry came to you that summer.   
  
It was to be expected of course. He'd just lost the closest thing to a father he'd ever known, and you were his life long bestfriend.   
  
(We were so much more than that.)  
  
He cried for a good long time, looking at that damn photograph album Hagrid gave him his first year. Then he looked up at you. His hair a mess, and his glasses askew. And he looked . . . So. Much. Like. James.  
  
For a moment you almost let yourself believe it was James you were looking down at. As if your childhood friend had gotten a hold of a time-turner and turned it the other way, sending him to the future.   
  
(God knows fate could be that cruel.)  
  
With his hair covering his scar you might have mistaken him for James at that age. Might have if it weren't for those eyes.  
  
More vivid when emotional, just as Lily's had been. But no, these weren't Lily's eyes. Lily had been a happy girl. She hadn't known pain until the day she died.  
  
Harry's eyes were all his own. They were haunted as a 15 year old boy should never be.  
  
(Though it's becoming more common.)  
  
You can relate.  
  
The lycanthropy had torn you apart. Left you bleeding inside with nothing to stop the wound from bleeding all over your soul.  
  
Nothing until he came.  
  
(Sirius . . .)  
  
Harry asked you what the archway was.  
  
You told him you didn't know.  
  
Then Harry asked you how you knew he was gone. After all, you'd been the one to speak the words everyone dreaded hearing.  
  
("He can't come back, because he's d-")  
  
You felt him. Inside you, always there, a comforting flame flickering next to your heart. Such is the bond of a werewolf and his mate. But in that moment that he passed through that arch, you felt a coldness grip your heart. Felt the flame snuff out.  
  
Harry stood looking at you and asked again, as you hadn't answered.  
  
You told him you didn't know.  
  
(He wouldn't understand.)  
  
The boy gave you a look as though he didn't quite believe you, but let it go and turned back to the box of his late godfather's boyhood posessions you'd dragged out for him to go through. Perhaps it was because of the way your voice cracked and your lip trembled.  
  
Perhaps it was because of the pained expression on your face.  
  
Perhaps Harry just knew not to push.  
  
You hadn't cried at the funeral held in the dark of night in back of Hagrid's hut. It was too unreal.   
  
(There wasn't even a body.)  
  
You'd just gotten used to the fact that he wasn't rotting away in Azkaban for killing your other bestfriend. The other bestfriend that turned out to have been a turncoat who sold James and Lily out and then framed your mate for it.   
  
You felt at that point that . . . maybe it wasn't as it seemed. Just as before. Perhaps, as soon as everything went back to normal he'd waltz in the door with that goofy grin plastered to his face. Tell you that now people would stop looking for him.  
  
(How could you scare me like that you bastard?!)  
  
But he never came.  
  
Then the anger hit. Unreasonable and unfounded.  
  
(You said you'd live for me but you died for James' son!)  
  
That eventually lead to guilt.  
  
(I should have made him stay behind.)  
  
Which finally lead to grief.  
  
(How can I live without you?)   
  
And then mourning.  
  
(There will never be another.)  
  
Which brings you to the present. Laying on your bed curled around a over large pillow dressed in his dirty clothing from the day before it happened. Even with your wolf's nose you can barely pick up the scent of your lover.  
  
Harry's in the next room. He's sobbing again.  
  
You suppose you should feel more compassion for the young boy. But you just can't.  
  
Not yet.  
  
(Didn't know you as I did.)  
  
The night wears on. Harry's cried himself to sleep. You're still awake.  
  
You decide to get out of bed make some coffee.  
  
As you make your way down the stairs the portrait of his mother starts screaming again.   
  
"BLOOD TRAITOR OF A SON DESERVES DEATH! BLESS BELLATRIX! BLESS HER FOR KILLING THE BL-"  
  
"Incendio."  
  
The portrait goes up in flames.  
  
You watch it burn with a sinister satisfaction. Mrs. Black continues screaming obscenities until she's nothing but a pile of ash.   
  
(This place should be laid to rest.)  
  
You head back upstairs, and wake Harry from his sleep.   
  
Groggily he makes his way downstairs after you, after packing his things which float outside into the yard ahead of the two of you.  
  
"Incendio!" You cry once more, aiming at house. It goes up in a firey blaze.  
  
The two of you watch it burn. Listen to Kreacher's shreiks as he wakes up to find himself engulfed in flames.  
  
And you watch. Watch until the sunrises, the magical fire still burning, Kreacher's screams long ago stopped. You watch until you hear siren's blaring nearby. Watch until finally the hand of an understanding old wizard rests on your shoulder and he portkeys you and Harry to the place you buried a box full of your lover's prized things.  
  
And finally, you're able to cry.  
  
-Fin   
  
"Cause I am lost without you I cannot live at all,  
  
My whole world surrounds you I stumble then I crawl . . ."  
  
-"Take it All Away" Puddle of Mud 


End file.
